The Mustard Mystery
by padfoot's prose
Summary: '"Mustard," Blaine said, holding up a jar and grinning mischievously.' Kurt and Blaine arrive home with some new purchases and put them all to good use. Based off Chapter 8: Anything Else? of You Had Me At 'Sesame Street'. Klaine! Item #5: MUSTARD
1. Whipped Cream

**Yes, I _know_ I'm supposed to be gone from the face of the planet until November. But this sort of felt like an obligation, because I did offer to write some extended pieces of my favourite drabbles.**

**This is based off Chapter 8: _Anything Else?_ of my story You Had Me At 'Sesame Street'.**

**Yeah, it's the original mustard one. It's THAT one.**

**This is going to be a five-shot. One chapter for each item on Klaine's shopping list. No guarantees about how often I'll be updating. I guess it'll be whenever I figure out how ON EARTH I am going to write each of those items, especially given that, about a week ago, I was stressed about writing a kliss.**

**!**

**WARNING! Please notice the rating on this story. It is (inevitably) a bit more... um... _mature _than Sesame Street. Right now, there isn't smut, but I make no promises about upcoming chapters.**

* * *

><p>Blaine was one of those people – he always had been – who learnt best through praise. He never took well to being told what he was bad at, but if someone told him he was awesome, everything else somehow seemed to work itself out.<p>

He could remember, admittedly rather vaguely, the time when the careers counsellor at school had met with his parents and told them exactly that...

"Your son is very talented," Ms Bristol had said, shooting Blaine a proud smile. "But his confidence needs some work. He needs you to help him realise just how talented he is."

"Talented? What? Our boy?" Mr Anderson joked, clapping Blaine on the shoulder as if positive Blaine would take it lightly.

And he tried to.

Blaine was used to the jokes. The mockery. The quips. The humour. In fact, he was _very_ used to it. So used to it, that he couldn't remember the last time his father had paid him a compliment without it being paired with a deprecating wink or gesture.

But Ms Bristol had noticed the way Blaine's eyes had fallen, that humble, almost worried look that had pinched his forehead at his father's jibe. She, who had watched as that look faded from Blaine's eyes in these first few months at Dalton, watched it return now. She, who had helped Wes and David encourage him, nursing his singing, his dancing, but most importantly his _confidence _(which was all you really needed when it came to stage presence), was unable to prevent all that work coming undone. She, who remebered that one day, not so long ago, when Blaine had practically skipped into her office, babbling about having won the assembly solo fair and square, sat helplessly by as that confidence, that freedom, slowly dissipated.

But she didn't have to sit in silence.

"See, that's what I'm talking about," she'd quickly pointed out. "It's not my place to tell you how to raise your son, but I can tell you from what I know about Blaine that, sometimes, he needs you both to be genuine with him. He needs to know that you're proud, even if it isn't something you feel comfortable saying to him."

Blaine's ears had turned pink and he'd lifted a hand to cover his face, abashed. His mother, on his right, had glanced over him to meet his father's eyes. They'd noticed the difference between the boy sitting beside them and the one who'd transferred to Dalton six months ago. They'd noticed how this boy held his head high, smiled, laughed – behaved like any teenage boy should, gay or otherwise. Behaved like a boy who wasn't scared to be himself anymore. So then and there they'd made a silent agreement to encourage, not tease, him. Then and there, they'd decided that positive re-enforcement was the way to go.

Kurt, fortunately, needed no such discussion with the careers counsellor to get the hint. Blaine very clearly worked best with encouragement. For instance-

"Mmm, yes- _more_..."

-made him learn with uncanny speed that Kurt kind of loved it when Blaine's fingers, lips, tongue – any part really, Kurt wasn't fussy – dipped into his bellybutton, pulling at the last few flecks of whipped cream.

"That _feels_-" Kurt broke off with a moan, his fingers raking against Blaine's skull as Kurt clutched his head tighter, "-incredible."

Blaine chuckled, touching his tongue one more time to his boyfriend's impossibly addictive skin before pulling back, licking his lips.

"That _tastes_ incredible," Blaine said, leaning over to snatch the half-empty bottle of whipped cream from Kurt's bedside table, pulling off the lid and shaking it. "You've got to try it."

Kurt sat up eagerly, distracted momentarily from the icky, sticky feel on his stomach. A wide grin decorated his face at the mere thought of fulfilling Blaine's offer.

"Okay."

"Open wide," Blaine ordered.

"Wha-?"

Kurt's confusion was short-lived, as Blaine wasted no time spraying a blast of cream directly at his mouth. Unprepared for the attack, Kurt hadn't thought to so much as part his lips, and as a result, the cream ended up smeared unceremoniously across his face. Blaine broke into a fit of laughter, falling forwards and burying his face in the messy bed sheets at Kurt's expression – part-perplexed, part-mutinous.

"You... meant to... I thought..."

Blaine was gasping out words, dissolving into hysteria before he could utter anything coherent.

"Your face!" he managed to say as his head emerged from the sheets. But, seeing the cream-covered Kurt again, he lost it, his head plummeting back down to try and smother his laughter.

Kurt, however was not amused.

But, knowing that his boyfriend learnt best through praise, his let out a long sigh, pushing his hair back from his face to ensure none of it got near the cream. This had already thrown out his moisturising routine for the next month – he wasn't about to let it mess up his hair-care regime too!

"Blaine?" he asked gently, when his boyfriend had stopped practically sobbing in mirth. "Do you want to help me get this off?"

Instantly, Blaine looked up from the sheets, the laughter still clear on his face. His gaze met Kurt's, his teeth gripping his bottom lip to stop another chuckle breaking loose, and he said, dapper-as-ever, "Yes, please."

Kurt made a gesture that seemed to say, 'Well, go on then!' and Blaine acquiesced, leaping forward to kneel with his legs either side of Kurt's, hands moving down to push his boyfriend back against the headboard, and spreading over his chest. Blaine enthusiastically licked, sucked at, practically ingested Kurt's skin – whipped cream and all – his sloppy kisses doing just as good a job at spreading the cream as at eating it away.

Not that Kurt minded.

At all.

It took a great many kisses, and more than one great sweeping lick, but eventually the cream was gone. Swiftly, Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt's, letting Kurt savour the creamy taste of his tongue. Blaine pushed closer until his and Kurt's bare chests were flush and the friction of their hips was making them groan. He moved his lips over to Kurt's cheek, then to Kurt's ear, biting at the lobe as he breathed, "That what you had in mind when we bought the cream?"

Kurt tried not to lose it completely when Blaine's teeth grazed his earlobe.

_Good behaviour is to be encouraged_, he reminded himself. And this behaviour wasn't good enough. _Yet_.

"Not exactly," he whispered back, squirming a little as Blaine's mouth moved down to his neck.

"No?"

Blaine was still laughing a little at his own brilliance with the cream stunt as he continued his journey south, hands sliding down Kurt's chest as his lips pressed against his collarbone.

"No." Kurt confirmed. "And for the next item on the list, I think I deserve a proper taste."

* * *

><p><strong>"What is the next item?" you ask.<strong>

**My answer:**

_**Go check.**_

**And also:**

_**What have I gotten myself into?**_

_**...**_

**Interestingly, I think the first section of this is, like, a perfect example of how my mind works. I have these half-formed ideas (e.g. the original idea started from 'Kurt, fortunately, needed no such discussions...') and then I sort of get off track, going the long way around to actually get to what I mean to express. I do the same thing in Waiting for Wormtail and The Things We Do For Love (both HP James/Lily stories). Anyway, I just thought that was interesting. You might not agree.**


	2. Condoms

**Seeing as it's 11pm here and in my list of things that I am not supposed to be doing, writing this is right up there with 'marrying a drug addict and moving to live with him in Somalia, where we'll make our fortune by raising a family of circus-trained iguanas', I'm just going to skip the whole AN thing and just give you the story.**

* * *

><p><strong>WARNING! This chapter does not contain smut. Yeah, so actually, I'm warning you that you need not be warned. However that works...<strong>

* * *

><p>Blaine collapsed onto the bed beside Kurt, both boys panting and covered in a sheen of sweat.<p>

"Oh, God. That was-" Kurt broke off, turning his head to stare at his boyfriend, who had his eyes closed. A lazy smile was playing on Blaine's lips, making him look like he was in utter paradise as he rested his head on the pillow.

After a moment of silence, Blaine cracked an eye open and looked over at Kurt, as if to say, 'Yes? It was...?'

"Umph." Kurt finished, exhaling heavily with a small laugh.

"Umph?" Blaine repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yep. Definitely."

Blaine chuckled, lifting a hand push back his hair where it stuck to his forehead. Kurt, bringing himself up to balance on an elbow, watched for a long moment, as Blaine tried to restore some semblance of order to his utterly dishevelled appearance. Wondering briefly if he looked equally as bad (then realising that, no, like always, he looked nothing less than perfect), Kurt extended a hand to run his fingers through his boyfriend's hair. A gooey mess of gel and sweat met his tender touch, and Kurt pulled back quickly, his expression horrified.

"That's disgusting!" he cried, wasting no time wiping his hand off as thoroughly as possible on Blaine's exposed chest. "Ew, ew, ew!"

Blaine watched in amusement as Kurt reached over to pull a tissue out of the box on his bedside table, using it to continue cleaning his hands.

"Please tell me you are going to have a shower before we do that again?"

"Again?"

Blaine sat up quickly, the blissed-out smile gone, replaced by a suggestive smirk as his arm reached out to curl around Kurt's middle, pulling him closer.

"I didn't think you'd be ready for 'again' for a while yet..."

As he spoke, Blaine kissed Kurt's shoulder, his hands working on turning his boyfriend around to face him. With very little reluctance, Kurt allowed himself to be rotated, closing his eyes as Blaine's lips trailed across his collar bone, up to his neck, ghosting over his lips before moving to softly murmur in his ear, "But if you're up for it, I could get on board."

The array of innuendoes was too much for Kurt to take, and he leant back from the rough kiss that followed his boyfriend's whisper , unable to suppress a giggle. A brief glimpse of Blaine's vaguely irritated expression only made him laugh harder, and then it was too late to remedy and he pulled away completely, dissolving into Blaine's shoulder, positively cackling in amusement.

Blaine frowned down at the boy laughing hysterically into his neck, hands pausing as they touched the edge of the sheets, which were pooled around Kurt's waist. This was not going at all to plan.

"Maybe I will go have a shower," Blaine muttered after having spent a good minute looking uselessly around the room, hoping Kurt's laughter would relent.

Kurt pulled away, tears now pooling in his eyes as he mouthed the words, 'Up for it'. He pulled another tissue from the box, using it to wipe his eyes before adding it to small pile of rubbish in a dip in the mattress by the edge of the bed.

Giving up entirely on getting any sort of attention from Kurt for the next half hour or so, Blaine slid his legs out from under the sheets, resting his feet on the carpet as he scanned the ground for something to put on. A discarded towel was just out of arm's reach, but a pair of long-forgotten shorts were closer by and he took a minute to pull them on. Then, scooping up the small pile of rubbish, he shot one last glance at Kurt and, trying to resist rolling his eyes, moved across the room into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

"Mind if I use your towel?" he called out to Kurt, once he'd emptied his hands into the rubbish bin under the sink.

"Go for it," Kurt replied, his voice finally sounding like it was recovering from the laughter.

Blaine pulled the shorts off again and stepped into the shower, immediately ducking his head under the faucet and beginning to work at getting out the paste-like substance that had formed there. The bathroom slowly fogged up, Blaine taking his time under the hot water, ensuring that every last bit inch of his body was washed clean. Eventually, he turned off the taps and stepped out onto the cold tiles, pulling Kurt's towel off the rail and patting himself dry.

"You done?" Kurt asked from the bedroom, and Blaine called back an assent, wrapping the towel around his waist as his eyes fell on the fogged up mirror hanging over the sink.

Grinning, he lifted his finger up to sketch a smiley face on the mirror. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, then quickly added a star, a heart, a very crudely-drawn cat...

"What's that?"

Kurt had entered the bathroom, clad in a fluffy white robe, while Blaine was entertaining himself with steam-drawings. Looking back at Kurt, Blaine expected his enquiry to be about one of the creatures on the mirror, but instead his boyfriend's eyes were fixed on the bin. Blaine followed Kurt's gaze, taking in the tissues, toilet paper rolls, a discarded condom, old dental floss strings – the usual contents of a bathroom rubbish bin.

"What's what?" Blaine's asked, his eyes moving back to Kurt, confused.

"_That_," Kurt said pointedly, as if positive that stressing the word would make a difference.

Blaine was still perplexed, and continued staring at his boyfriend with an expression quickly growing bemused.

"_What_?" he repeated.

Kurt's glanced around conspiratorially, as if worried there might be someone else in the room, before hissing, "The _condom_."

A shout of laughter escaped Blaine before he could control the impulse. Suppressing it became impossibly harder when he noticed Kurt turning bright red, right to the tips of his ears.

"Are you telling me that you have to whisper the word 'condom', and yet you have absolutely no problems with using one?" Blaine asked, more to tease his boyfriend than because he wanted an answer. "Or more than one," he added as an afterthought.

Kurt shrugged uncomfortably, his face still red.

"You have no idea how adorable you are," Blaine chuckled, ruffling Kurt's hair for good measure.

"Shut up," Kurt shot back, glaring as he tried to flatten his hair. "Besides, this has nothing to do with me being a baby penguin. This has to do with _my Dad_ being the one who empties this bin. What do you think he'll do if he finds this?"

"Give you 'The Talk' again?" Blaine suggested under his breath.

Kurt gave him a brief 'you're not helping look', before turning back to the bin.

"Well, what do you usually do?" asked Blaine, turning around to lean against the sink and face Kurt. "I mean, when we... y'know...?"

Kurt's eyebrows shot up as his eyes met Blaine's, "When we what?" he enquired sweetly.

Now it was Blaine's turn to blush, his gaze falling to the floor as Kurt smiled victoriously.

"Come on, you know what I mean," Blaine muttered, knowing it was a useless attempt at redemption.

Kurt looked for a second as if he was tempted to reply, but wisely, he held his tongue, trying to keep focussed on the task at hand. The condom seemed to stand out from among the stained white tissues and brown toilet paper rolls, as if screaming out, 'Guess where I've been!' to the world. Trying not to psyche himself out, Kurt quickly bent down and pulled a few of the tissues out from under the condom, letting it fall deeper into the bin. Blaine pulled some sheets of toilet paper from an unused roll, scrunching it up in his palm and handing it to Kurt, who artfully arranged it inside the bin.

"That should do," Kurt finally said, standing up and stepping back from the rubbish bin. He looked down at his hands in disdain.

Without needing to be asked, Blaine moved away from the sink, softly kissing Kurt's cheek before heading out of the bathroom. Kurt watched his boyfriend out the door, smiling when Blaine dropped the towel from around his waist and continued to the bed. Suddenly much more eager to get it over and done with, Kurt moved forward to wash his hands thoroughly in the sink, scrubbing at his palms with Lady Macbethean vigour. Finally, when he was convinced they were clean, he quickly wiped them on a hand towel and followed Blaine's path out into the bedroom.

Already, Blaine was back under the covers, biting his lip with the effort it took to unscrew the lid of the bottle of chocolate sauce.

"I knew we should've gotten a squeeze bottle," he muttered as Kurt approached.

Kurt bent down, rifling through the plastic bag beside the bed, filled with what was left of their purchases. He emerged a moment later, hopping onto the bed and crawling over to kneel on top of the covers, between Blaine's outstretched legs. He pulled the glass bottle of chocolate sauce out of his boyfriend's hands, replacing it with a plastic one. With a squeezie lid.

"We did," he said with a smile.

Blaine grinned back.

"Perfect."

* * *

><p><strong>I think we can all agree that I was getting kind of tired when I wrote about what a condom was saying. Just to emphasise that point, I'm going to write a list of my favourite lines in this, because, seriously, Blaine's innuendo was by no means the only one:<strong>

**- _his hand working on turning his boyfriend (on)_**

**- _ensuring every last inch of his body was washed clean_**

**- _patting himself dry_**

**- _while Blaine was entertaining himself_**

**- _well, what do you usually do?_**

**- _trying to keep focussed on the task at hand_**

**- _Blaine was back under the covers, biting his lip with the effort it took to..._**

**_- Kurt bent down _(There are some verbs that you just don't use in slash fics if they're not smut. 'Bent down/over' is one of them.)**

**Also:**

**- _with Lady Macbethean vigour_**

**Because I seriously cannot believe that the first time I mention Shakespeare ever in a story, it had to be in this one.**


	3. Chocolate Sauce

**No, this story hasn't been forgotten. I was just having a lot of trouble writing the 'chocolate sauce' chapter. Which is odd, seeing as the 'lube' and 'mustard' chapters came out really quickly.**

**Anyway...**

**I ought to warn you now that I've pulled another 'Sesame Street' with this. Basically, I got mad at myself for letting fanfiction distract me, so went and finished off the whole story incredibly quickly. That's not to say these chapters are rough or bad or anything. It's just to say that yes, this story is in fact now finished :(**

**So enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>WARNING! This chapter is the product of a very tired mind that was not at all willing to divulge it's contents. If it seems a bit... crap... I apologise<strong>

* * *

><p>"Kurt?"<p>

"Hmph."

Kurt was not impressed. In fact, he was so unimpressed that not even the combined temptation of a shirtless Blaine and copious amounts of chocolate sauce could entice him to move one inch closer to the delectable combination, which was currently sprawled in the centre of his bed.

"Kurt..." Blaine tried again, desperately hoping his tone conveyed something along the lines of 'come hither', rather than 'this chocolate sauce is seeping into some really unimaginable places right now and I'm feeling incredibly uncomfortable about it'.

"Hmph," his boyfriend repeated, stubborn as ever.

Giving up, Blaine sat up, reaching for a tissue and wasting no time in beginning to scrub the remaining sauce off his body. Thankfully not a whole lot was left, as everything had been going perfectly well until not long ago, when – SHOCK HORROR! – a drop of sauce had rolled off Blaine's hip and onto the white sheets of Kurt's bed. Needless to say, things had gone downhill from there.

"I'm going to need another shower," Blaine said, more to himself than to Kurt, picking bits of tissue off his skin where they'd stuck to the residue chocolate.

"Good luck with that," Kurt muttered bitterly. "The hot water will be out pretty soon if you keep this up."

Blaine was quite positive that there was insult hidden somewhere in his boyfriend's words, but decided it would be wise not to seek it out. Instead, he stood up, still picking at his stomach, and headed to the bathroom, this time shutting the door behind him.

Kurt sat in his wake, turning, once he was sure the bathroom door was closed, to look at the brown stain smeared on his previously clean white sheets. Of course, Kurt knew he was being unreasonable. After everything that had gone on today (and all the things that hadn't gone on yet but hopefully would soon), it was inevitable that stains of some sort would get on the sheets. In fact, Kurt was really more annoyed at the fact that _chocolate_ had been the first thing to end up messily dripping everywhere and not... something else.

He eyed the bottle of chocolate sauce on his bedside table, sitting beside its non-squeezie-lidded twin, wondering if he was really so immature as to be jealous of chocolate sauce. But he was. The fact was simply inescapable.

The sound of the shower turning on made Kurt look up, and he waited a moment for Blaine's cry of, "Ahh! It's _freezing_!" before smiling to himself and standing from the bed.

Feeling almost like a criminal sneaking out of their cell, Kurt pulled on a shirt and a pair of pants from the floor, checking his hair in the mirror and then stepping outside his bedroom door. It was sort of incredible just how normal this hallway still was, given all the things that had been happening just behind its deceptively white walls. The sound of his shower could be heard even from out here, and as he crept downstairs, Kurt silently prayed that he wouldn't bump in to Finn or Carole or worst of all his _Dad_ as he hurried to the kitchen.

Kurt sighed in relief when he made it back to his room undetected, placing the two mugs and the carton of milk he'd snagged on his desk. Grabbing one of the bottles of chocolate sauce (the non-squeezie–lid one because... well, _gross_), he attempted to unscrew the lid, remembering the trials from before. Still unable to budge it, he glanced at the closed bathroom door, an idea springing to mind.

"Hey, Blaine?"

As he entered the bathroom, Kurt saw his boyfriend's silhouette, visible through the translucent shower curtain, freeze at the sound of his voice.

"Yes?"

"Is the water hot yet?"

"Yes." Blaine was silent for a moment after he responded, trying desperately to hear a clue of what Kurt was doing over the sound of the rushing water. "Why?"

The question was answered almost instantly when Blaine felt a person beside him, and the initial thought of '_Oh, my_-' quickly switched to, 'Damn, I hope that's Kurt' as a barrage of horror-movie scenes entered his head.

"That is you, Kurt, right?" Blaine asked, reluctant to turn around.

Kurt laughed, snaking his hands around his boyfriend's waist in a way that would be creepy if it weren't so-

"_God_, Kurt... does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"I guess so," Kurt replied, kissing Blaine's shoulder.

"Good."

"Besides," Kurt added. "I thought of a good excuse for the stain."

Kurt thought it was a testament to the quality of his and Blaine's relationship that, not two minutes later, they were sitting on his bed, cuddled against a pile of pillows, sipping mugs of chocolate milk. And the fact that they were there, and not still fooling around in the shower had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the hot water had run out again. At least, not according to Kurt.

Blaine might not have been so generous. Especially given that, the moment he finished his last sip of drink and allowed his boyfriend to kiss the milk-moustache off his lip, he climbed off the bed and pulled the second last item from the shopping bag, saying, with a grin, "You ready?"


	4. Lubricant

**This chapter is in present tense. I don't know why.**

**I started writing it and I'm like, 'Oh, so you're going to be like that are you?' and the chapter pulled on its Born This Way t-shirt and was like, 'Yeah, I'm in present tense. And I'm proud. Deal with it!' So I was like, 'Calm your farm! I have nothing against you being in present tense, it's just that the readers might get confused-' but it interrupted me, being all like, 'You're going to blame your prejudices on your readers? Man, that's low, even for you, Jg.' But then I was like... (This could go on for a while. Suffice to say the story won.)**

* * *

><p><strong>WARNING! If you, unlike Burt, have some idea of what went down in the tent, you will probably notice that this heavily implies smut.<br>If you still have no clue what I'm talking about, I doubt you'll notice it.  
>Also, there is one pesky little square-word in here.<br>Consider yourself warned. **

* * *

><p>The sight of Blaine at times like these is something that Kurt wants to remember forever.<p>

His boyfriend's dark, curly hair is wild, sticking up in every direction. His eyes are closed, one arm thrown carelessly across his face, as if it's fallen there after having spent the last few minutes pinned against the headboard (which Kurt proudly remembers, _oh right, it has_). Blaine's mouth is slightly open, lips red and raw and looking _thoroughly_ kissed. And his entire glorious body is there – _right there_ – on the bed beside Kurt. No uniforms or blazers or even sheets to hide it, and only the pleasant waves of drowsiness prevent Kurt from leaning in to start everything all over again, for the simple reason that he _can_.

"What are you thinking about?" Blaine murmurs as Kurt closes his eyes, letting the sound, barely a whisper in the silent bedroom, wash over him like a warm breeze.

"Nothing," Kurt replies.

"Really?"

"Yeah..." Kurt waits a moment before adding, "I think I feel numb. In a good way. I kind of want stay feeling like this forever."

Blaine chuckles, and Kurt has the good sense to open his eyes again and watch the laughter dance on his boyfriend's lips.

The expression on Blaine's face is not exactly a grin – not quite the exaggerated, almost insane flash of teeth and lips and tongue that Blaine normally sports. This smile is gentler, more tender. More content. The thought that it was him, Kurt, who gave Blaine a reason for that smile makes his heartbeat (and other parts of his anatomy) begin to pick up, awakening from the pleasant haze.

Suddenly, Blaine's eyes open too, the laughter apparent in them as well.

"Numb?" he repeats, shifting the arm on his face to push his hair back off his forehead.

Kurt shrugs, wriggling deeper into the fluffy pillows they're both resting on.

"Well," Blaine begins, moving his hand down to touch Kurt's hip. "We can't have that, can we?"

And then that grin's back – all teeth and lips and tongue and lips and another quick little chuckle and _lips_, descending on Kurt's, bringing back all the feelings from before. And suddenly, his heart now pulsing harder and faster than ever, Kurt feels anything but numb.

It's amazing that things can change so quickly, and yet somehow Kurt is unsurprised when Blaine's cheeky, chuckling kiss turns swiftly into something much deeper. Already Kurt finds himself lying underneath Blaine, who has one elbow supporting himself and the other hand trailing purposefully down, down, down, and Kurt loves the fact that his boyfriend doesn't need to push aside sheets or jeans or anything as his blissfully smooth touch continues on and on.

Because of course this is normal, of course this is how things would end up. From the moment this boy had turned around and looked him in the eye, Kurt was hooked, instantly ready to be reduced to a trembling, moaning wreck as he basks in the absolute pleasure of...

"Blaine-"

That grin is still there, now plastering kisses and bites and licks to Kurt's neck, while Blaine's hand continued to work its magic on Kurt's... _heart_.

"Wait. We- we need..."

"I know."

Blaine pulls back and if Kurt were still in a state of mind capable of feeling embarrassed he would. But, given all the things that have already happened today, Kurt isn't sure that he's even able to be embarrassed around Blaine anymore. It seems such an unnecessary emotion, just making things awkward when they're supposed to be-

"_Fuck_- _Blaine_..."

Kurt vaguely registers the fact that Blaine certainly isn't embarrassed about what he's doing. With the small semblance of sanity remaining in his mind, Kurt makes a mental note to tell Blaine, soon, that having thought about it, _Yes_, _he loves spontaneity_. God, yes.

As his mastery of the English language fails Kurt entirely, he is forced to consider opting either for Braille, sign language or telepathy to convey to Blaine just how _fantastic_ this feels. But he doesn't know how to make the sign for either 'tight', 'warm' or 'more' (and figures that without those key signals it will really be a waste to bother trying) and getting across anything in Braille could be difficult given that all Kurt really wants is for Blaine's fingers to stay exactly where they are.

So Kurt makes a stab at telepathy, wondering if the fact that he's still moaning and sighing and breathing rather loudly will disrupt the communication medium.

It doesn't. Blaine gets the message. Loud and clear.

And, hips finally falling back onto the bed (not that he can even remember lifting them up), Kurt receives Blaine's telepathic response.

_Please._

Taking a moment to try and recover, Kurt opens his eyes to see Blaine's desperate gaze still hovering over him.

_Please_, that hazel stare repeats.

Naturally, Kurt obliges.

Because all he really wants to do is, just once, to pull his boyfriend apart at the seams. Kurt wants to make Blaine rock and groan and squirm in a way that is so impossibly _sexy_ and yet still so definitively _Blaine_ that it gets Kurt's heart (but he doesn't really mean his heart at all) pounding all over again. He wants to see Blaine fall apart... and he wants to be one to piece him together once more.

* * *

><p><strong>I kind of love this last paragraph. That's all.<strong>

**Oh, and I can't believe I just typed my first swear word. First Shakespeare and now naughty language - I'm really maturing as a writer with this story :P!**


	5. Mustard

**And here it is: the final answer to the age-old question: WHAT IS WITH THE MUSTARD?**

**I hope you're as excited as I am about finally solving the mystery!**

* * *

><p><strong>WARNING! This chapter features a jar of mustard. Take that to mean what you like.<strong>

* * *

><p>"The lid's... stuck!"<p>

Kurt huffed out in annoyance as he tried one more time to loosen the lid on the jar of mustard, but to no avail. Despite the good five minutes he'd spent trying to pull it in every direction imaginable, the tightly sealed metal cap would not budge, and he threw the jar onto the bed, conceding defeat as he flopped down beside it.

"Well, there goes that plan," he said, pouting childishly.

"Maybe not."

Blaine rose from the seat at Kurt's desk, dropping the pen he'd been scribbling madly with. He moved over to the bedside, sitting next to Kurt's feet, which dangled over the edge as he lay on the sheets. Grabbing the mustard jar, Blaine gave opening it a few tries before giving up too, staring blankly at it for a moment as if searching for inspiration on its very unimaginative label. Then-

"I know!"

He stood quickly from the bed, and Kurt craned his neck up to watch as his boyfriend ducked into the adjoining bathroom, the sound of water running echoing back into the bedroom.

"This will just take a minute!" Blaine called over the sound of the water, and Kurt sat up properly when his neck started aching, wondering if he should warn Blaine how notoriously bad their hot-water system was.

_Oh, right_. Blaine already knew that.

Kurt suppressed a smile.

Sliding across the bed until he was sitting on its edge, Kurt stretched wearily, still smiling a little at the memory of all that had happened that day. It seemed impossible that only this morning they'd been giggling over condoms at a cash register.

"Any luck?" Kurt asked, standing up and walking to the bathroom door to peer inside.

Blaine was standing by the sink, one hand held under the tap to test the water temperature as the other hanging by his side, clutching the mustard.

"Still waiting," Blaine replied.

"Hmm..."

Kurt left the bathroom, wandering over to his desk when he noticed the pen lying abandoned on it, somehow seeming more out of place than the half-empty milk carton and two mugs. Picking up the pen and replacing it in its drawer, Kurt's gaze fell on the page of scribbled words Blaine had been working on before.

_V1:  
>Sometimes when I look in your eye<br>All I see is darkness  
>And I wonder if when you look back<br>You see the same in mine._

_Our lives have been kind of crazy  
>We're fighting for a break<br>A breath of air, a wisp of hair  
>It should all be yours to take<em>

_So all I ask is that you let me_  
><em>Kiss away the ache<em>

_C:  
>There's gotta be a right time<br>There's gonna be a bright time  
>At the end of this.<em>

_We're ready for a respite  
>Just looking for a safe ride<br>Through the  
>Pain and confusion and 'where are we heading for's<em>

Some of the words were hard to make out, jotted in tiny writing around the spiky lines of rejected lyrics. Yet, as much as Kurt could feel the urge to pull out the pen and write a neater version of it all, he couldn't bring himself to change anything about the page. It felt somehow sacred and special, like it were a diary entry or a carving – something so permanent and intrinsically pure, almost elemental, that it couldn't be edited.

"Yes! Kurt, I got it!"

Blaine was grinning when he emerged from the bathroom, the jar in one hand and, finally, the lid in the other. He approached Kurt, his grin turning mischievous as he brandished the mustard, but his expression faltered when he saw the paper still lying, exposed, on the desk.

Swiftly, before Kurt could even begin to open his mouth, Blaine had put the mustard down and scooped up the sheet, folding it roughly and grasping it with both hands.

"Blaine, I was-"

"It's not finished yet," Blaine interrupted, turning away and hurrying across the room to fish his jeans off the floor, shoving the folded paper into their back pocket before letting them drop onto the carpet again.

Kurt's eyes followed his boyfriend's movement, taking in Blaine's nervously furrowed brows and the way he lingered on the other side of the bed, as if glad for the barrier between them. As if worried about Kurt's reaction to, or opinion of, what he'd just read.

Cautiously, Kurt stepped away from the desk and moved to the bed, kneeling on the sheets. For the first time that day, the double bed seemed far too big, stretching out for what could have been miles between where Kurt knelt and where Blaine stood, his eyes still averted.

"I liked your lyrics, Blaine," Kurt murmured.

Blaine's gaze crawled up to meet Kurt's, a reluctantly hopeful expression playing in his eyes.

"Really?"

Smiling, Kurt moved a little closer, reaching the middle of the bed before answering, "Yes, they were fantastic."

A blush blossomed in Blaine's cheeks as he tried to look modest. Unable to resist, Kurt moved closer, now at the other edge of the bed, his head almost even with Blaine's.

"You're just saying that because you like me," Blaine accused as Kurt's hand touched his, fingertips trailing up his bare arm, lingering on his shoulders, and then gliding around his neck to settle there.

"No," Kurt corrected, pulling Blaine closer so that their upper-bodies were pressed together, their lips millimetres apart. "I'm saying it because I love you."

Blaine let his lips come down onto Kurt's, kissing him in a soft, tender way that quickly transformed into something far more passionate. Kurt made a sound at the back of his throat as he shuffled backwards, tugging Blaine onto the bed, and they both fell to the sheets, struggling for a moment in a tangle of arms and hands and lips. Then everything settled into place and Blaine was hovering over Kurt, kissing him deeply, seriously, his hands moving slowing but purposefully down to Kurt's waist, his hips, the band of his sweatpants...

And, far away on the desk, the open jar of mustard sat, utterly forgotten.


End file.
